100 Years Ago - Siberia, Palestine, London

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/edition/register/spring-on-the-battlefront-6jbtpp7np

march 1, 1918

Spring on the battlefront

Whatever the future may have in store, we know, at least, that the talk of a German offensive in February was untrue. The month ends in quietness, and the front remains devoid of anything but local incidents, such as raids, sudden flurries of artillery or trench mortar fire, and, when the weather favours, bursts of aerial activity, in which we still hold markedly the upper hand.
The chief feature of the minor operations so far has, perhaps, been the increasing use of gas shells on both sides. Whatever truth there is in the alleged German desire, through Geneva, to obtain a discontinuance of the use of gas, it is certain they very much dislike our present gas shells. An order recently issued to the German Army informs all ranks that the British have invented eight new kinds of gas, and offers rewards for the salvage of unexploded shells for analysis. From lack of rubber, the Germans have been compelled to substitute leather in the construction of gas masks. The authorities are trying to persuade the soldiers that the change was made because rubber was found not to be impermeable to our gas. They fail to add that, if the rubber mask is not impermeable, a leather one is much less so, but the German soldiers understand, and have generally little confidence in the present masks. Though the German divisions on the Western front are more numerous than this time last year, the trench or bayonet strength of a German division is 25 per cent less than it was in 1916.

Whatever the Germans are doing, Nature, in France, is certainly preparing her great spring offensive. In spinneys and sheltered places, daffodils, dwarf periwinkles, celandine, and wood anemones are all in flower, nearly a month ahead of last year, and shrubberies are greening with leaf buds. On warm days the woods have been ringing to the spring song of the chaffinches and the insistent calling of the green woodpeckers, and the first brimstone butterflies are on the wing. Even close to the front line in areas not devastated there is evidence that the earth is stirring in its winter sleep, and the sunshine makes some alleviation of the almost intolerable hideousness of trench life, for enduring which, with the spirit in which they do, the nation can never sufficiently repay her soldiers.
https://www.thetimes.co.uk/past-six-days/2018-02-28/register/hospital-ship-sunk-in-seven-minutes-ntw7t0wvg

february 28, 1918

Hospital ship sunk in seven minutes

The sinking of another hospital ship, the Glenart Castle, was announced yesterday. The vessel, which had about 200 souls on board, including medical staff and nurses, sank in the Bristol Channel in seven minutes, and up to last night 38 survivors had been landed, 22 at Swansea, nine at Milford, and seven at Pembroke. There were 182 persons on board, so 144 are still unaccounted for. The Admiralty statement is as follows: HM hospital ship Glenart Castle was sunk in the Bristol Channel at 4am on February 26. She was outward bound, and had all her lights burning. There were no patients on board. Survivors have been landed by an American torpedo-boat destroyer. Eight boats are still adrift. Further information will be published as soon as received. Cardiff, Feb 27. On Tuesday a French schooner landed at Swansea 22 men belonging to the hospital ship Glenart Castle, of the Union Castle line. The Glenart Castle left Newport on Monday with a complement of 150 and a hospital staff of 50. The men on arrival at Swansea reported that at 4am a torpedo struck the ship’s engine-room and the vessel sank in seven minutes. Immediately after the explosion the lights went out and the wireless system was rendered ineffective. The ship went down stern first, and this made the launching of the boats extremely difficult, even if there had been sufficient time. The men stated that they had been seven hours in the boat in heavy seas before they sighted the French schooner which eventually brought them to Swansea. They knew nothing of the fate of the rest of the occupants of the vessel, but expressed the fear that the loss of life must have been serious.

It was only a few weeks ago that Swansea received hundreds of men, women, and hospital patients from the hospital ship Rewa, which was torpedoed about the same spot at the mouth of the Bristol Channel. On that occasion the weather was fine and the sea smooth, and the town had the great gratification of knowing that every soul on board, with the exception of five killed by the explosion, had been safely landed. Today every incoming vessel was anxiously awaited, in the hope that the remainder of the occupants of the Glenart Castle might be on board, but up to midday no further survivors had arrived.


https://www.thetimes.co.uk/past-six-days/2018-02-27/register/a-midnight-bayonet-fight-92cghb6tz

FEBRUARY 27, 1918

A midnight bayonet fight

In the night of December 20-21 Scottish troops at Joppa crossed the Auja on rafts and light bridges, surprised the Turks, and drove them from the port. The crossing was one of the finest achievements of these brave Scots who, at the price of fewer than 100 casualties captured 350 prisoners, killed with the bayonet almost as many more Turks, and drove the enemy’s artillery beyond the range of Joppa.
To reconnoitre enemy positions in daylight was dangerous work. One night two officers swam out to sea across the river-mouth and crept up the right bank of the stream, to ascertain the locality of a ford and its exact depth and width.
Preparations for crossing the river were conducted with great secrecy. Local material was collected for building rafts, and after the boats had been put together where enemy airmen could not see them the troops practised at night embarking and ferrying, and cutting paths through cactus hedges in the dark.

Heavy rains had waterlogged the valley, and a section carrying a raft lost one of their number, who was afterwards found sunk in mud up to his outstretched arms. The first raftload of men was paddled across the river with muffled oars. A line was towed behind, and this being made fast on either side the rafts crossed and recrossed by haulage. When bridges of rafts had been anchored, blankets and carpets were laid across them to quiet the fall of marching feet. By the ford there was a stoppage because the high water had obliterated certain guideposts. The officer commanding the leading battalion went into water up to his neck to search for the ford. Finding it, he led his men over in columns of fours, each section linking arms to prevent the swirling waters from carrying them out to sea.

Orders were that not a shot was to be fired. Death was to be dealt out with the bayonet, and, it speaks well for the Scots’ discipline that, though engaged in a life-and-death struggle, not a single round of ammunition was used till daylight, when, as some keen marksmen tell you, they had “some grand running-man practice”.
The Turks were absolutely surprised. Trenches were rushed, and the best men won with cold steel. At daylight all objectives had been won and the troops were well dug in. It was a perfect night’s work.